


Green grapes

by belana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belana/pseuds/belana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willas explains the Reach to Sansa</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green grapes

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Вино и виноград](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275299) by [zmeischa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmeischa/pseuds/zmeischa). 



“I’ve seen snow three times in my life,” Willas said.

Sansa stared at him bewildered. Willas has never seen such blue eyes and such golden eyelashes. _Like butterfly wings,_ he thought and decided to give her a butterfly-shaped pendant covered in sapphires. Truth be told, he only had to look at Sansa to decide to give her another present: a pie, a puppy, a pretty dress, a picture book… a new doll…

The main drawback of their marriage was the fact that Sansa was thirteen while Willas was twenty-nine.

Grandmother Olenna called her _kind, but slow girl_ in her letters, but she tended to call ‘a girl’ every woman younger than herself. She also repeatedly emphasized that it was very important to consummate this marriage. That was why Willas took one look upon his future wife and howled softly, “Mother!”

Lady Alerie patted his shoulder gently.

“Of course, you can’t, she’s still a child. Cheer up, we’ll figure something out.”

The wedding and the bedding took place the next day, Willas spent the night in Sansa’s bedchamber (on a couch behind a screen), the consummation of marriage was unofficially postponed for two years. Willas suspected that in two years his wife would think he was her kindly uncle, but kept these thoughts to himself and every day gave Sansa flowers, sweets, puppies, jewelry, dresses and books, stoically refraining from dolls.

“Only three times? How can that be, you must have seen three of four winters!”

Willas winced a little. He never, not even in his mind, called Sansa slow, but at times she was terribly naïve, painfully so.

“Yes. The last one was very mild and snowless. Oh, there is winter in the Reach. For example, we don’t go boating Mander in winter.”

“Because the river freezes over?”

Willas imagined a place where a deep river could freeze through, looked at Sansa and decided that he was glad to see her in Highgarden. Such a fragile creature didn’t fit among snow storms.

“I think the last time Mander froze was during the Great Winter. No, it’s just that cold winds blow from the water. It does get cold here, though, we keep fires at furnaces and fireplaces at night, sometimes we even wear fur cloaks. Don’t laugh.”

“I couldn’t, Milord!”

“And don’t call me milord. During winter our farmers plant less wheat and more rye, oats and barley so in all Seven Kingdoms prices on wheat bread double come spring.”

Sansa nodded gravely.

“I know. Maester Luwin said that if the Seven Kingdoms are a castle, then Dorn is the stables, the Reach is the granary, the Westerlands are the treasury, the Riverlands are the barnyard, the Vale is the pantry, the Iron Isles are the smithy, where the smith is always drunk and pugnacious, the North is the woodshed, the Stormlands are the defensive wall, and the Crownlands are the castle itself.”

“Personally, I think the Crownlands are the waste pit,” Willas grumbled.

Sansa smiled and quickly covered her mouth in alarm.

“Your maester was right, but not entirely. Do you know what the main treasure of the Reach is?”

“F-flowers?” Sansa asked tentatively and froze as if expecting him to berate her for the wrong answer.

“Yes and no. Flowers are the main treasure of Highgarden. Do you remember how beautiful the road to our castle is? There are lavender fields, blooming oranges and lemons, snow white jasmine bushes and thousands of roses.”

Sansa nodded fascinated.

“Do you know what this beauty really means? It means money. Gold coins are blooming in our gardens. Gold is dug from the underground in the Westerlands, it’s hunted and cut down in the North, but we pluck our gold off the bushes, sublimate it and pour it into bottles. It’s an expensive and complex process, not every man can extract the soul of a flower. Still, the true treasure of the Reach is also grown from the soil, but it’s not flowers.”

“Grain?”

“No. We grow wheat, fruit and olives (Dornish oil is better, though, but don’t tell anyone), but wine is the real blood of the Reach.”

Sansa stared suspiciously at a tray full of flasks and bottles. Willas noted many times that his wife rarely drank during dinners. At first he thought that maybe she was accustomed to Dornish reds, but when lady Alerie asked several careful questions it turned out that Sansa wasn’t accustomed to any wine. _One cup and only during a feast,_ mother said, wrinkling her nose. _I used to do that when you were three_.

“You are to be the next lady of the Reach, Sansa. There is a grape vine behind every farmer’s house here. I don’t ask you to get drunk, brawl and, I don’t know, dance on tables, but you must know wines. We’ll start with the simplest things.”

He opened the first flask and poured sparkling golden liquid into a goblet.

“It’s cider!” Sansa announced happily. “I like it very much, it’s so much better than beer!”

Willas tactfully let the matter drop. He thought that beer was a poison and a waste of wheat, _better than beer_ was an insult to any drink of quality higher than horse piss.

Sansa was far less enthusiastic about the next drink. She sipped red wine like it was a stomachache medicine that would help to relieve the pain according to maesters. Then she looked at Willas, sipped once more and said politely, “It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Can you say why you didn’t like it?”

“It’s a very good wine, Milord!”

“Sansa. Has anyone ever told you that you can’t lie?”

“Many times, Milord.”

“Don’t call me that. Tell me why you don’t like this wine.”

Sansa winced.

“It’s… not very tasty. I drank red wine once, it smelled of wild strawberries.”

Willas knew that wine, just the memory of it made his stomach ache.

“This one smells of blackcurrant and raspberry. Try it.”

Sansa dutifully smelled the goblet and looked at Willas doubtfully.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Red wines are for connoisseurs, white wines are for everyone. Try this one.”

The next was Arbor gold, Sansa wasn’t very enthusiastic about it either.

“It’s not… sweet,” she said thoughtfully.

Willas decided that it was time to stop torturing the child and to fetch the grape jam. He had another card up his sleeve, though.

“Do you remember I said that it rarely snows in the Reach? We do have cold spells, though. And if ripe grape is frostbitten while it’s still on the vine, it turns into very special wine.”

Sansa sipped it suspiciously. Again. And again.

“It’s sweet!”

“It’s called ice wine, it’s a drink of kings. And this wine is made of plums.”

Sansa hurriedly drank ice wine and held out the goblet so Willas poured some plum wine. She liked this one too. She blushed, her eyes were shining. Willas suddenly thought that thirteen years was old enough. There were women who married at thirteen, birthed children and lived happily ever after, and no one thought ill of their husbands… He shook his head to chase such thoughts away.

“And this is my father’s favourite drink. It is said that after a substantial dinner when you’re too full you should drink a little of this apple wine and, voila, you can eat some more.”

Sansa sipped obediently and coughed.

“Very… interesting,” she wheezed.

Willas stood up, leaned on his crutch, went to the farthest corner of the room and fetched a pot of grape jam.


End file.
